better in black

family curse

That is the curse of my family , we dont hug after fights or when we’re falling apart , we go on each others nerves too much , we fight so loud and long and then we isolate , our rooms become our sanctuaries , quiet for me and most importantly , walls between our fists and heads and mouths .

On the strongest bridges you hear screams and gunfire but the brick won’t burn , its just an attack , a civil war that will end with all of us still together .

We only tell each other what we hate , blaming people is as easy as taking a deep breath , open your eyes , there you have someone to blame , maybe even two or three .

We don’t hug , only at airports and train stations and very rarely on our front porch.

I try to fight finding mistakes inside me. She says I’m so selfish. I try finding what I bring to the war zone. She doesn’t know how hard it gets .

In this house , we don’t love , only our cats and a functional household , a full fridge and clean clothes keep us together , yet we want to run away.